"So ye can soft-talk Charles into doing ye'r bidding--and leave me to
face Master Otis alone?" Deborah's defiance was magnificent and Justin
put an arm around her.
He said to Ortine, "Since time is of no account to you, perhaps you'll
give us a little of it together."
"As you wish." Ortine shrugged and turned to leave. "I shall await your
summons."
"What did he mean?" Deborah asked Justin, when he had gone.
Justin studied her briefly, kissed her, then said, "Debby, just how did
our friend explain himself to _you_?"
"Oh...." The girl looked vague for a moment. "He told me that if I
failed to heed Master Otis' plea the redcoats would come to Boston and
burn my home and kill my father and mother and brothers--aye, and ruin
me."
Suddenly Deborah's arms were around him tightly, her worried face
peering searchingly into his. She said, "Through my willfulness will
all these dreadful things come to pass, Charles darling?"
"Debby," he told her gently, "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."
"Ye'll not desert me?" she pleaded.
He smiled down at her. "Debby, I don't think I could desert you if it
meant the end of the world--and it may yet."
"Ye'r jesting," she said. "Kiss me."
He did--and again they were interrupted by a throat-clearing in the
cubicle doorway. Dr. Phillips said in his old-fashioned London accents,
"I don't quite ken why our friend has brought us back--but I see things
are the same betwixt the two of _you_."
"Why, Dr. Phillips!" exclaimed the girl. "Ye'r clad in ye'r breeks now."
"I thought it might be a wise precaution before returning to my nap,"
said the professor mildly.
Justin said, "Come in, Doctor." He set Deborah on her cot, swung onto
his own, while Dr. Phillips accepted the one chair in the cubicle.
He seemed not at all surprised to find two beds where one had stood
before.
"Dr. Phillips," said Justin, "I've been hoping you'd turn up here
again. On our first visit I saw a Roman soldier down the hall toward
the dining saloon. He was with a Mohammedan-looking female. Do you have
any idea of who he is--or what his assignment is?"
Dr. Phillips nodded. "Aye," he said. "I forget his name--it is of no
moment in history. He is--or was--a mere field officer in the suite of
a Judaean sub-Praetor during the reign of Augustus."
"And his assignment?" Justin asked quietly.
"I believe to the best of my memory--" Dr. Phillips frowned as he
delved into his own mind--"that this chap was supposed to arrest a
fellow named John Something-or-other outside of Jerusalem and hold him
on a trumped-up charge."
"I take it," said Justin, "that Roman Judaea has not been one of your
fields of study."
"Gracious no!" replied the don. "My only knowledge of Latin is derived
from an effort to study its imprint, if any, on the pre-Christian
tongues of Northern Europe--including Scandinavia."
"Thank you, Dr. Phillips," said Justin, slipping off his couch again.
"By the way, how do you summon Ortine when you want him?"
"Just press this button," said Dr. Phillips, indicating a circular
buzzer almost invisible against the wall near the corridor door. "Well,
in that case I'll be going."